Fic: Scattered Echoes (Harry Potter -- Sirius/Remus) PG-13
Title: Scattered Echoes (31/31)
Author: kingzgurl
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13, leaning heavily towards R
Word Count: 1,500
Timeline: Deathly Hallows
Prompt: dogdaysofsummer 31 August 2009
Summary: As he watches fiendfyre destroy the last of his friends, Remus realizes he is truly alone.
***
Harry’s feet dragged heavily as he made his way to the edge of the water. Sand filled his shoes until he could barely lift them to take a step and he shuffled along, the burden in his arms forcing his shoulders to slump forward in defeat, as if carrying the weight of the world.
It was the weight of his world, at least. The last parent, the last guardian he had. The last of his parents’ friends, the last of the Marauders, the last of an era.
At the water’s edge, he knelt and gently laid the body of a wolf in the shallows, watching as the waves lapped against it, drawing it slowly away from Harry’s outstretched hands.
From the corner of his eye he could see a lifeguard tower and beyond that the skeletal remains of what had once been a carnival. Though he had never been to this beach, he knew he was in the right place. Sirius’ diaries had told him the importance of this place to both his godfather and Remus Lupin, and he knew it was the place they both would have wanted to be put to rest.
Harry moved forward until he was kneeling in the water and he reached out to stroke the wet, matted fur on Moony’s neck. His fingers snagged in metal and he pulled gently until he found a chain with an hourglass around it. Sand still streamed through the hourglass, and Harry smiled sadly at it. The last time he had seen the hourglass, it had stopped altogether, right after Sirius’ death. That was when Remus had shrunk it down and put it on a chain. He never took it off after that.
Another wave of cold, gray ocean swept against Harry and ripped the chain from his hand. The wolf’s body drifted further away and Harry watched it until he could hardly tell it from the gray clumps of seaweed floating in the water.
Barking from the shore drew his attention back to the beach, where two dogs were running side by side down the sand, one black, the other a deep gray. When Harry turned back to the water, the wolf was no longer to be seen in light of the setting sun.
***
“Remus Lupin,” a deep, but vaguely familiar voice drawled. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Remus looked up at the sound of the voice, noticing the two Death Eaters for the first time since they’d returned.
“Who are you,” he asked carefully, his wand still on the ground where he’d dropped it when he had sunk to his knees.
“Remus, love,” the voice was patronizing. “It hurts to know that you would forget your first.”
“My first what?” Remus had a sickening feeling he knew exactly who was behind the mask, but twenty plus years had dulled his memories of the boy and what had happened in the 7th floor corridor at Hogwarts.
“You know, your first.”
There was no mistaking it this time and Remus suppressed a shudder as the voice rolled over him where he was still kneeling on the ground. “Winston Rosencranz,” he spat. “I never expected you’d be stupid enough to follow Voldemort, but given your sadistic tendencies, it makes entirely too much sense.”
“Don’t say His name!” the second Death Eater shouted. “His name shall not be sullied by a filthy half-breed.”
The second voice was also strangely familiar, though Remus did not have to search his memories too exhaustively to find the face. “Again, someone I did not expect to be a Death Eater,” Remus replied evenly. “Though I didn’t expect you to be a wizard, either.”
“You should have listened to me all those years ago,” the man replied, his mouth twisting into a malicious smirk. “Instead of letting that old bat fight your battles for you. I took great pleasure in torturing her.”
“For hating Muggles, you sure took great care to blend in and appear like one,” Remus answered spitefully. Tears welled up in his eyes at the memory of finding Misty in St. Mungo’s just a few months early, her already-fragile body twisted beyond repair. “So much so that until this moment, I honestly believed you to be one. Unless you’re a Squib, that is, because then it’s not so difficult to do.”
Remus was riling them up, and he knew it, but he did not care that they outnumbered him and currently had the advantage because they were standing with wands drawn and he was kneeling with his wand nearly a foot away. The two of them had caused him much pain and anguish in his life, and he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of making him a victim any longer.
“Why you--” the second man started to advance, but was cut off by Winston Rosencranz’s hand on his chest.
“No, Phillip,” he told the shorter man. “It would not do well to harm him just yet. I still would like the chance to play with him a little, first.”
“I suppose,” the black-haired boy from the bookshop, apparently named Phillip, replied. He circled Remus predatorily.
“I am not a toy,” Remus snapped, keeping his sharp eyes on Phillip’s movements.
“Oh, but I assure you, you are,” Winston informed him. “I can’t wait to have you bent over so I can fuck your tight, sweet arse again. I’ve deprived myself too long of the things I want.”
“No,” Remus growled again, and he looked up at the sky, where the cloud of smoke and ash from the fiendfyre was just beginning to dissipate. “I will kill you before you touch me again.”
“Remus Lupin, still so naïve,” Winston whispered darkly. “No one was there to help you the last time, and there is no one here to save you this time.” Both men began advancing on Remus from either side, drawing nearer and making it even less likely Remus would get to his wand before they attacked him, but just before they reached him, the smoke finally cleared enough to reveal the full moon through the haze.
Remus’ muscles twitched and stretched beneath the skin. Effortlessly, and before either of the Death Eaters could react, he had risen to his full height and howled while his bones and joints slipped and shifted, transfiguring into the terrifying form of a werewolf.
Neither Winston nor Phillip had reacted in the time it took to transform, and instead they had stood there, dumbfounded by what was going on in front of them. They had expected he would have been taking his Wolfsbane potion, was the last fleeting thought in Remus’ mind before Moony took over, too bad for them he had missed his dose that night.
Fueled by Moony’s lust for blood and human-flesh, and enhanced by Remus’ hatred of these two men and his desire for vengeance, Moony pounced, going straight for Phillip’s jugular. Phillip screamed and cried out into the night, until Moony’s razor-sharp claws tore his vocal cords open and he was left wide-mouthed and silent, screaming for Winston to help him.
Moony could feel spells bouncing off his back, but pure adrenaline and rage allowed him to disregard them until his prey lay still in the dirt. Almost immediately, Moony turned on Winston and approached him slowly, teasingly.
Winston threw jet after jet of green light, of curses and Avada Kadavra, and yet his eyes were wide with shock and he stumbled backwards, trying to get away from the wolf.
Moony could feel his strength waning bit by bit as he let the curses hit it repeatedly in the chest, and yet he advanced, hell bent on taking the life of the one he was stalking around the town square.
Winston unknowingly backed himself into the corner of the square, trapped by two stone walls and left with no escape route except to go through the werewolf, and in a blind panic he threw a particularly powerful Avada Kadavra spell hurtling at Moony’s chest.
Moony took the hit and kept advancing until he was inches from his hunted, allowing his rage to completely overtake him, and he attacked. His teeth and claws ripped, bit, and tore at Winston’s flesh, tearing him nearly limb for limb, until the man no longer resembled a man at all. All that remained were bits of flesh and bone scattered in a nearly ten-foot radius.
Moony ignored the remains as he slunk back to the center of the square, where a monument had once stood. As his adrenaline levels dropped, the wolf, suddenly exhausted and weary from his hunt, settled on the pile of ash and lay still.
They say that just before death, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Remus would argue they were merely scattered echoes from the past, memories of the most important and most tragic times of ones’ life, the moments that made a person who they truly were meant to be, for better or for worse.
***
Reading Order: Previous. Next
Chronologically: Previous. Next.
Author: kingzgurl
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Rating: PG-13, leaning heavily towards R
Word Count: 1,500
Timeline: Deathly Hallows
Prompt: dogdaysofsummer 31 August 2009
Summary: As he watches fiendfyre destroy the last of his friends, Remus realizes he is truly alone.
***
Harry’s feet dragged heavily as he made his way to the edge of the water. Sand filled his shoes until he could barely lift them to take a step and he shuffled along, the burden in his arms forcing his shoulders to slump forward in defeat, as if carrying the weight of the world.
It was the weight of his world, at least. The last parent, the last guardian he had. The last of his parents’ friends, the last of the Marauders, the last of an era.
At the water’s edge, he knelt and gently laid the body of a wolf in the shallows, watching as the waves lapped against it, drawing it slowly away from Harry’s outstretched hands.
From the corner of his eye he could see a lifeguard tower and beyond that the skeletal remains of what had once been a carnival. Though he had never been to this beach, he knew he was in the right place. Sirius’ diaries had told him the importance of this place to both his godfather and Remus Lupin, and he knew it was the place they both would have wanted to be put to rest.
Harry moved forward until he was kneeling in the water and he reached out to stroke the wet, matted fur on Moony’s neck. His fingers snagged in metal and he pulled gently until he found a chain with an hourglass around it. Sand still streamed through the hourglass, and Harry smiled sadly at it. The last time he had seen the hourglass, it had stopped altogether, right after Sirius’ death. That was when Remus had shrunk it down and put it on a chain. He never took it off after that.
Another wave of cold, gray ocean swept against Harry and ripped the chain from his hand. The wolf’s body drifted further away and Harry watched it until he could hardly tell it from the gray clumps of seaweed floating in the water.
Barking from the shore drew his attention back to the beach, where two dogs were running side by side down the sand, one black, the other a deep gray. When Harry turned back to the water, the wolf was no longer to be seen in light of the setting sun.
***
“Remus Lupin,” a deep, but vaguely familiar voice drawled. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Remus looked up at the sound of the voice, noticing the two Death Eaters for the first time since they’d returned.
“Who are you,” he asked carefully, his wand still on the ground where he’d dropped it when he had sunk to his knees.
“Remus, love,” the voice was patronizing. “It hurts to know that you would forget your first.”
“My first what?” Remus had a sickening feeling he knew exactly who was behind the mask, but twenty plus years had dulled his memories of the boy and what had happened in the 7th floor corridor at Hogwarts.
“You know, your first.”
There was no mistaking it this time and Remus suppressed a shudder as the voice rolled over him where he was still kneeling on the ground. “Winston Rosencranz,” he spat. “I never expected you’d be stupid enough to follow Voldemort, but given your sadistic tendencies, it makes entirely too much sense.”
“Don’t say His name!” the second Death Eater shouted. “His name shall not be sullied by a filthy half-breed.”
The second voice was also strangely familiar, though Remus did not have to search his memories too exhaustively to find the face. “Again, someone I did not expect to be a Death Eater,” Remus replied evenly. “Though I didn’t expect you to be a wizard, either.”
“You should have listened to me all those years ago,” the man replied, his mouth twisting into a malicious smirk. “Instead of letting that old bat fight your battles for you. I took great pleasure in torturing her.”
“For hating Muggles, you sure took great care to blend in and appear like one,” Remus answered spitefully. Tears welled up in his eyes at the memory of finding Misty in St. Mungo’s just a few months early, her already-fragile body twisted beyond repair. “So much so that until this moment, I honestly believed you to be one. Unless you’re a Squib, that is, because then it’s not so difficult to do.”
Remus was riling them up, and he knew it, but he did not care that they outnumbered him and currently had the advantage because they were standing with wands drawn and he was kneeling with his wand nearly a foot away. The two of them had caused him much pain and anguish in his life, and he wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of making him a victim any longer.
“Why you--” the second man started to advance, but was cut off by Winston Rosencranz’s hand on his chest.
“No, Phillip,” he told the shorter man. “It would not do well to harm him just yet. I still would like the chance to play with him a little, first.”
“I suppose,” the black-haired boy from the bookshop, apparently named Phillip, replied. He circled Remus predatorily.
“I am not a toy,” Remus snapped, keeping his sharp eyes on Phillip’s movements.
“Oh, but I assure you, you are,” Winston informed him. “I can’t wait to have you bent over so I can fuck your tight, sweet arse again. I’ve deprived myself too long of the things I want.”
“No,” Remus growled again, and he looked up at the sky, where the cloud of smoke and ash from the fiendfyre was just beginning to dissipate. “I will kill you before you touch me again.”
“Remus Lupin, still so naïve,” Winston whispered darkly. “No one was there to help you the last time, and there is no one here to save you this time.” Both men began advancing on Remus from either side, drawing nearer and making it even less likely Remus would get to his wand before they attacked him, but just before they reached him, the smoke finally cleared enough to reveal the full moon through the haze.
Remus’ muscles twitched and stretched beneath the skin. Effortlessly, and before either of the Death Eaters could react, he had risen to his full height and howled while his bones and joints slipped and shifted, transfiguring into the terrifying form of a werewolf.
Neither Winston nor Phillip had reacted in the time it took to transform, and instead they had stood there, dumbfounded by what was going on in front of them. They had expected he would have been taking his Wolfsbane potion, was the last fleeting thought in Remus’ mind before Moony took over, too bad for them he had missed his dose that night.
Fueled by Moony’s lust for blood and human-flesh, and enhanced by Remus’ hatred of these two men and his desire for vengeance, Moony pounced, going straight for Phillip’s jugular. Phillip screamed and cried out into the night, until Moony’s razor-sharp claws tore his vocal cords open and he was left wide-mouthed and silent, screaming for Winston to help him.
Moony could feel spells bouncing off his back, but pure adrenaline and rage allowed him to disregard them until his prey lay still in the dirt. Almost immediately, Moony turned on Winston and approached him slowly, teasingly.
Winston threw jet after jet of green light, of curses and Avada Kadavra, and yet his eyes were wide with shock and he stumbled backwards, trying to get away from the wolf.
Moony could feel his strength waning bit by bit as he let the curses hit it repeatedly in the chest, and yet he advanced, hell bent on taking the life of the one he was stalking around the town square.
Winston unknowingly backed himself into the corner of the square, trapped by two stone walls and left with no escape route except to go through the werewolf, and in a blind panic he threw a particularly powerful Avada Kadavra spell hurtling at Moony’s chest.
Moony took the hit and kept advancing until he was inches from his hunted, allowing his rage to completely overtake him, and he attacked. His teeth and claws ripped, bit, and tore at Winston’s flesh, tearing him nearly limb for limb, until the man no longer resembled a man at all. All that remained were bits of flesh and bone scattered in a nearly ten-foot radius.
Moony ignored the remains as he slunk back to the center of the square, where a monument had once stood. As his adrenaline levels dropped, the wolf, suddenly exhausted and weary from his hunt, settled on the pile of ash and lay still.
They say that just before death, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Remus would argue they were merely scattered echoes from the past, memories of the most important and most tragic times of ones’ life, the moments that made a person who they truly were meant to be, for better or for worse.
***
Reading Order: Previous. Next
Chronologically: Previous. Next.